Work Text:
Mike looks at the kitchen clock on the wall again, sighing in frustration as he hurriedly packs his picnic basket. As far as he’s concerned, his mom chose the worst possible day to come home late. A few days before, Karen had overheard him talking about his picnic date with El, and insisted on helping him to prepare everything. But now he’s running late, because it turns out his mom had run into their neighbor Mrs Walker—who’s known for always launching into long-winded monologues that can leave anyone exhausted by the end of a conversation.
Still, to his great surprise, he manages to arrive on time. He jumps off the bike and grabs the basket, running up to the cabin in anticipation.
When Mike hastily makes his way to the porch of the cabin and knocks on the wood of the doorframe, it’s still some five minutes before two o’clock. That’s why he’s confused when Hopper opens the door and greets him by saying:
“Hey, kid. You’re late. We’ve been worried sick, y’know.”
Mike rolls his eyes, quickly catching on to his mocking. Of course. Hopper always takes it upon himself to tease him for his punctuality. He just doesn’t want to be late; he doesn’t ever want to keep El waiting. Mike’s gotten better around Hopper—he rarely gets flustered anymore, although it’s not for lack of the sheriff trying. In his defense, he’s in love with El, and after being separated from her for a year, spending as much time as possible with her makes perfect sense to him.
With a hint of a self-satisfied smirk playing across his mouth, Hopper ruffles Mike’s hair, moving out of the doorway and letting the boy in.
“Good morning to you too, Chief,” Mike replies, voice clouded with both annoyance and humor as he sets the basket down.
For a second he wonders why he isn’t being greeted by El, but then he catches the man shoot a disapproving look at his backpack. Mike instantly knows what’s coming—one of Hopper’s scolding’s (accompanied by him running a hand over his face or pinching his nose) on how he and his little friends should stop bringing new things to El when there’s barely any space left in the cabin that isn’t already occupied by El’s countless belongings.
“It’s just one book, okay?” Mike reasons, before Hop can say something. “What’s the big deal? You’re moving soon anyway!” he reminds him.
The man opens his mouth to argue back, but luckily, Mike is saved by El. The bathroom door creaks open and she emerges a moment later, practically running towards her boyfriend.
“Mike!” she squeals and flings her arms around his neck, making him stumble back.
He laughs, reciprocating the affection by wrapping his arms around her waist and hugging her close. It feels like they haven’t seen each other in ages. And they haven’t, in a way. He spent the day before babysitting Holly and trying to make some money over the summer by mowing the neighbors house’s lawn. These kinds of days are rare, though. Much to Hopper’s annoyance, now that school is out for summer, they spend all their free time together.
“Jesus, it’s too early for this,” Hopper mutters beside them, but neither of them really pays any attention to it.
“Mike,” El says, a smile in her voice, before she disentangles herself to greet him properly, “Hi. Max and I went to the Mall again! We bought...” she hesitates as she looks down at her outfit, evidently trying, but in the end failing, to remember the word for it, “Uh, this.”
She swiftly twirls around, showing off her short sleeve romper with bright patterns. Mike’s gaze makes a quick climb from her toes to her eyes, before coming to rest on her face.
“You look really good!” he says, fully aware his words don’t do her justice at all. “It’s a really cool look.”
“Thanks,” El replies softly.
Mike glances at Hopper, who’s moved to the couch during their exchange. With newspaper in hand, it doesn’t seem like he’s listening to them, but Mike decides to hold back and save his compliments for later.
He glances back at El and can’t help the smile that breaks on his face.
He’s witnessed all of El’s makeovers over the years he’s known her—he’s seen a scared timid girl with a short buzz cut, transform into a confident one as soon as she put on a pink smocked dress and a blonde wig. He’s seen a badass in black blazer, slouchy jeans and slicked-back hair go back to ‘Jane’ El Hopper, who wore baggy old clothes. He remembers well her Snowball look as well—teal polka dot dress, but also eyes gleaming with happiness, cheeks flushed, corner of her lips quirking up as soon as she saw him.
There’s one thing Mike is certain of. El looks beautiful no matter what she wears. Whether it’s a flowy sundress, hand-me-downs from Nancy, overalls, Hopper’s faded shirt, or his clothes (especially his clothes) which she’s acquired a habit of borrowing, El never fails to make his heart pound against his ribs (thump thump thump that sometimes echoes in his ears).
But there’s something about seeing her dressed as a regular teenager that makes him weirdly content. She’s dressed in an item of clothing that she picked for herself, according to her own taste and judgment. It’s a reminder that all the things she was once deprived of, are slowly coming back to her. No one can take them from her. Not anymore, and certainly not on his watch.
“I haven’t finished my homework yet,” El’s soft-spoken voice interrupts his train of thought. Her shoulders drop. “Hop won’t allow me to go out until I finish it,” she all but whines in frustration.
Despite it being a summer, her schedule remains busy. With her determination to attend high school in the near future and Hopper’s decision to keep her out of crowded places for a little longer, it seems only reasonable to make the most of her free time at the cabin. In between seeing him, she spends most of her time with Hopper or in tutoring. Mike feels his heart swell at his friends’ patience with her, each member of the Party giving their time to teach her something new. He thinks secretly that El enjoys her time with Nancy the most, she’s always admired his sister, since the first time she explored their family home.
“El, I can hear you, you know,” says Hopper from the couch, his face still buried in the newspaper. “We’ve talked about this. Homework first.”
“But Hop—"
“That’s okay, El,” Mike interjects. “I’ll just wait. It’s not like we’re in a hurry.”
El sighs and complies with indignation, “Fine.”
She grabs Mike’s hand and pulls him in the direction of her room.
“This should be interesting,” Hopper mutters quietly, his mouth curling in amusement. Following El to her room, Mike doesn’t give much thought to his odd comment until much later.
Hopper kind of has a point about one thing, he thinks bitterly, as he steps into El’s room and takes in familiar surroundings. There’s no denying she’s long run out of space on all six shelves, and now the books and comics he and the Party routinely bring to the cabin are stacked up on every available surface. Her desk, chest of drawers, nightstand and chair are brimming with books. All kinds of other items and knick-knacks, like cassette tapes, stuffed animals, figurines, also mostly his and his friends’ contribution, are scattered around the room and clutter the top of her desk and drawers.
Here’s a thing, though. Mike briefly wonders if Hopper realizes that clutter’s comforting to El. Having spent majority of her life in the lab, she’d become accustomed to a lack of furniture, bare walls that lacked personal touches. The novelty of being surrounded by the things that are gifts from her friends and that truly belong to her, must be thrilling.
With his hand still in hers, El walks over to her desk and turns to him, looking hesitant.
“Can you sit over there?” She asks tentatively, gesturing to her bed.
“Um… okay?” Mike replies, surprise evident on his face, following her hand and looking back at her in confusion.
“I just—I’ve almost finished my homework,” she slightly ducks her head, but he doesn’t miss a smile tugging at her lips, “You will… distract me.” She looks up at him.
Oh.
Mike’s mind flashes back to his visit last week, when she insisted on him coming over and help her with a history assignment. Two hours later, all they had to show for that unsupervised visit was a small stack of movies on VHS they had watched, and lips tingling from a series of kisses.
“Yeah, okay,” he laughs quietly, “Fair point.”
He quickly holds up a single finger. “But first…”
Mike lets go of her hand and shrugs out of his backpack. After riffling through it, he pulls out a book by Judy Blume. “Here,” he says, straightening up and handing it to her.
“’Are you there, God,” El slowly reads aloud the title, “It’s me, Margaret’.”
“I know you liked one of her books,” he clarifies, “Nancy told me you might like this one better.”
“I did,” El nods enthusiastically, turning the book in her hands. “It taught me some stuff.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Girl stuff.”
Despite having only a vague understanding of what that meant, Mike nods.
“There’s actually a character called Nancy Wheeler,” he informs as he watches El put the book carefully on the desk. “But Nancy swears that’s not why she recommended the book,” he chuckles.
Her eyes dart toward the door, making sure Hopper can’t see them. Pleased that the cost is clear, El looks back at Mike and closes the space between them. Putting her hands on his cheeks, she rises onto her tiptoes and presses her lips to his in a short, but sweet, kiss that’s enough to send his mind reeling.
“Thank you,” El whispers and pulls away slightly, beaming at him as she does so.
He lowers his voice too and smiles teasingly, in contrast to the fact that he awkwardly crosses his arms. “I’m not distracting you anymore? Thought I was.”
“Okay,” with half-suppressed laugh El purses her lips, tilting her head to the side and considering him. “We both distract. Compromise.”
“Okay,” he grins in triumph, “Compromise.”
Mike lets El get back to her worksheet. He eases himself on her bed and reaches into his backpack again, plucking out a new, #75 issue of the Space Gamer magazine he picked up at the store the day before. Before he can dive into reading it, a pile of magazines resting at the foot of her bed steal his attention. Mike puts aside his magazine and reaches for hers instead. His eyebrows raise as he eyes the title on the one in his hand, and the next one in the pile. He’s sure he’s seen similar magazines in Nancy’s room, but never bothered to take a good look.
“I bought them yesterday with Max,” El explains, looking over her shoulder, noticing his noticing. “Nancy says we shouldn’t believe everything that’s written in there. That some advice is non-sense. But hair tips and things like that can be useful,” she concludes matter-of-factly.
Mike slowly nods, having never really considered before she’d be interested in teen magazines.
Right. Girl stuff.
He quickly flips through the first few and suddenly has a better understanding about what that phrase means than five minutes before (“Complete Guide to Hair Color and Skin Care”, “First-kiss Bliss”, “Please Help! – Guide to Solving Your Biggest Problems – Boys, Friends, Parents”, “Fashion Smarts – What to Wear with What”, “Your how-to-get-him Guy Guide”, “Teens and Pregnancy – No Easy Answers”, “Dirtbag Alert – When Guys Just Want One Thing from You”). Curiosity gets the better of him, so he tries to ignore the feeling of progressive embarrassment as he reads the titles.
Mike flips idly through another few articles until he comes across what looks like a quiz (“Is he a good boyfriend? Where does your guy rank on the BF meter?”). His eyes instantly recognize El’s handwriting. It looks like she’s attempted to complete it, but never got to the end. A little heart and “Mike + El” scribbled at the bottom of the page makes his mouth curve into a smile.
Mike flips the magazine shut, having read enough, and puts it away, feeling like he’s intruding into something entirely too personal.
A little while passes, but he hears, “Done!” from El sooner than he expects. It feels as if only a couple of minutes have passed, but he’s not complaining.
“Already?”
She impatiently closes her textbook and leaps off the chair. Smiling brightly, she then settles on the bed across from Mike and mirrors his cross-legged position.
“Was it your science worksheet?” Mike asks curiously. “How’s it going?”
She furrows brows and considers his question. “It’s fine, but sometimes such a drag. I’m learning about planets, it’s more interesting than water… cycles?” El wrinkles her nose in distaste.
Mike snickers at her choice of words— it’s a new expression. He can’t imagine where she must’ve picked it up. “Tell me about it,” he replies and is quick to reassure her. “You’ve got this, though. I’m sure you’ll join high school in no time.”
El smiles. She ducks her head for a moment, peeking up at him and giving him a shy glance through her eyelashes.
“You really think so?”
“I know so. You’ll, like, outdo us nerds.”
She gives him a look then, and it warms Mike all the way through. He finds himself unable to take his eyes off her. At times it’s way too hard to just not stare, especially the days when every little thing she does makes his heart beat madly and his stomach do funny flips. Which, is he’s being honest, is every day they spend together.
“Can we do the words now?” El asks, unaware of Mike’s wandering thoughts. “Hopper only helped with the first half,” she shoots an accusatory look at the half-closed door.
“Uh, of course, sure,” Mike clears his voice and tears his gaze away.
El reaches over to her nightstand for her notebook and a stack of note cards. She sets the opened notebook on her lap and looks down at her notes. Devoting a few minutes each week to go through words the dictionary can’t help El understand is a part of their established routine.
“Silver lining?” She holds a pen up to her lips, a small frown on her face.
He thinks for just a moment. “Okay, so remember when we talked about metaphorical expressions, right?” he says. “You could say it’s a metaphor. It’s like… when you’re facing an unpleasant situation, but there’s something positive about it too?” Mike pauses for a second, trying to think of an example. “Like when you had to fight a Demogorgon, for instance. It sucked, but you made some good friends because of that. Does that make sense?”
“Yes,” El nods, scribbling down his explanation. A coy smile graces her lips and she looks up. “And a boyfriend too.”
Mike’s initially flustered, but composes himself to reply. “Right on,” he breaks into a grin.
For the next few minutes, the only sounds in the room are the scratching of her pen on paper and the rhythmic ticking of a clock. She puts aside a flash card she makes and looks at the notebook again.
“What’s an… anti-…dote? Antidote?” she voices her next question.
They go over three more words, each time El repeating what she’s done before—writing down Mike’s explanation next to the ones she found in the dictionary, and then making a flash card as well.
“Three little words,” she looks up from her notebook with her head tilted inquisitively, as curious as always to listen to his explanation.
Mike blinks.
“Uh… what?” He stammers.
“Three… little words?” El asks hesitantly this time and looks down at her notes to make sure she got it right.
This isn’t awkward at all.
“Where, uh, where did you get that one from?” he asks, stumbling over his words, subconsciously hoping the question will buy him some time.
“Magazines,” Two creases appear between her brows as she frowns up at him.
“Right.”
Mike shifts uncomfortably, suddenly finding a snagged thread of his t-shirt all too interesting. His heart picks up speed, and he’s certain he’s red in the face as well.
Three little words.
Truth be told, last month he’d finally put a name to the intensity of his feelings for her. After El had come back to Hawkins, he pondered them for a while, almost not allowing himself to think of something as big as the L word. Soon after though, he’d failed to find any other word that could come close to describe this bond he shared with El, other than, well, love.
He’s in love with her—and if mere weeks ago the realization made him unsure how to act on it, lately it’s turned into it’s a hard, solid knowledge that he constantly fights to keep to himself until the right moment.
It’s not like he doesn’t want to tell her. He’s tried telling her more times than he can count, each time failing more miserably than the last. He came dangerously close twice—finally working up the courage and willing to say the words— but both times he was interrupted; first by Hopper and then by a phone call.
It feels like the unsaid words burn on the tip of his tongue, about to escape past his lips every time he finds himself alone with her. But somehow, none of these moments feel quite right. In his mind, Mike imagines it differently, not some over-the-top, cheesy confession that you only see in movies of course, but something that still feels special and memorable.
The worst part, though? At times, it seems like he’s so transparent that the entire town knows about his feelings, except for the person he wants to know the most. The thought first occurred to him when he nonchalantly mentioned to his mom that he hangs out with the Chief’s daughter without his friends—Karen’s knowing smile replaced her look of surprise in a heartbeat. This was followed by a number of times he felt Hopper’s eyes scrutinizing him. He distinctly remembers one time when he biked to their wooden shack in the middle of a night to convince Els to take some medicine when her fever wouldn’t come down (she disliked hospitals and drugs immensely, something about them reminding her of the lab and morphing her face into a stricken expression). Even though Chief’s concern for El overshadowed the degree of interest with which he was studying the boy, Mike still felt like the man saw right through him, as if measuring when exactly a crush turned into something more. As a matter of fact, Mike himself was aware of his gentle voice, worry thick in his tone, his one hand coming up to cradle her flushed face and the other reaching for her hand and could only imagine how it looked to an observer.
And then, of course, there’s the Party.
“Oh my God,” a voice stirred Mike’s hazy sleep. Through the corner of a half-opened eye, he saw Dustin with his back turned, and realized he must’ve fallen asleep on the couch in the basement while waiting for his friends to come over.
Mike lifted his head, rubbing sleep from his eyes, still slightly disoriented.
It was then when Dustin turned to face him, a wide grin spreading across his face.
“Hey. Look, it’s not perfect. In fact, it’s gonna take a whole lotta work, but luckily, you’ve got me here to fix this mess for you.”
“Huh?”
“Your love letter to the one you’re pursuing,” he wiggled his eyebrows.
His love le—
Dustin’s words were like being splashed with a bucket of cold water. Only then Mike recognized a piece of paper in his friend’s hand as one of his draft letters to El.
No. No no no no no.
“Shit.”
Mike jumped up from his spot on the couch and marched toward Dustin, nearly falling over in his haste to retrieve the letter.
“Give it back, Dustin!” He yelled, reaching for his unfinished letter while Dustin stepped back, hiding it behind his back.
“Wha—”
“I said give it back!”
For once in his life, he was grateful for being as lanky as he was. When Dustin raised his arm to keep it out of his reach, Mike snatched it on his second attempt.
“Jeez. Sure, leave a thousand letters lying around all over the basement, but blame a friend for picking one up,” his friend said sarcastically, plopping down on the couch and opening a bag of Planters Cheez Balls he had found on the table nearby. “What’s with a stick up your butt?” he said, question muffled by his mouth stuffed with food.
“Oh, I don’t know, Dustin, maybe I’m pissed because you weren’t supposed to read it,” Mike answered, unable to keep the irritation out of his voice.
He sat down next to his friend, regretfully looking at the unfinished letter in his hands. After his failed attempts to tell her about his feelings in person, writing a letter seemed like a good idea. Until it suddenly didn’t. Who was he kidding? It was no good. And the whole idea was stupid anyway, wasn’t it? He didn’t intend to actually go through with it.
After pondering for a moment, he crumpled it up in a ball and pitched it into the trash.
“Hey,” his curly-haired friend admonished, evidently feeling guilty as he put the bag of snacks aside. “Dude, I was just kidding! I didn’t actually read the whole thing—”
“Yeah, whatever,” Mike was exasperated, more annoyed at himself than his friend. “It’s a total piece of shit anyway.”
“What is?” asked Lucas, coming into the basement through the outside side door in time to hear Mike’s last words, Will right behind him.
“Nothing.”
“His letter to El. Mikey’s in loooooove,” Dustin summed it up. His guilt seemed to dissipate—he was helping himself to a handful of cheesy crunch again.
“Thanks, Dustin,” Mike glared at him.
“And? How is this news?” asked Will, clearly not following, looking back and forth between Dustin and Mike after taking his usual spot in the armchair.
Mike stood up from the couch to make his way to the center of the basement.
“Can we just watch the movie?” he asked, reminding them why they were there in the first place. “’Terminator’, remember?”
Lucas raised his eyebrows, shifting his eyes from his friend, to the crumpled letters lying on the table and floor, as if asking: “Really, man, are we just going to ignore the elephant in the room?”. It looked like Will and Dustin were letting him handle it, because neither of them said anything. Somewhere between their last year in middle school and summer vacation, Lucas became the unspoken leader of the Party when it came to affairs of the heart.
Mike let out a frustrated groan, relenting. “Fine,” he went back to sit on the couch.
Lucas crossed his arms and braced himself. “Alright, walk me through it.”
Mike gave an account of the situation in a rush, trying to swallow his embarrassment as he spoke.
“Wait, you still haven’t, like, told her? Why not?” Lucas interrupted, looking even more confused, “And why write a letter?”
“Because I’m too chicken to actually say it to her face, okay?”, Mike mumbled in reply, throwing his hands in the air.
“Seriously?” Lucas gave him a bemused look and dragged the stool from the corner of the room, sitting down in front of Mike. “Look, man, really hate to break this to you,” he was struggling to suppress a grin, “But you aren’t exactly subtle. Chances are, she already knows as it is. Just tell her already.”
“Yeah, I’m with Lucas,” Will nodded.
“I was just waiting for the right moment, leave me alone,” Mike grabbed one of the pillows from the couch and threw it at his friend’s head, which narrowly missed him and thumped against the wall.
“Right, ‘cause then you wouldn’t have time to make out with her all the time,” Lucas said in an over-exaggerated tone, chuckling at his own words.
He wrapped his arms around himself and started making dramatic lip-smacking noises.
Mike groaned as the boys burst out laughing.
“You think he started saving up for a ring yet?” Dustin asked the boys, as if Mike wasn’t there.
Not for the ring.
Her 15th birthday.
“Hilarious,” Mike threw him a deadpan look. He went to the opposite side of the basement, kneeling beside the TV. He took the box of VHS tapes and started looking for the one they all agreed to watch, “The Terminator”, in hope they would soon drop the subject.
Maybe he could distract them with food?
Food is good, yes.
“Remember when he struggled through Days of Our Lives with El for months,” to his disappointment that was what he heard Dustin say to the guys behind his back. “Calling her every day for a year has nothing on this.”
Mike dragged both hands down his face.
“What does that have to do with anything?” he turned to them, aggravated.
“That show has zero educational value and you could never stand them,” Dustin was quick to point out, “You’re a goner.”
“To be fair, it was a dead giveaway,” Lucas chimed in.
“Right, because you’re both such experts at relationships,” Mike retorted defiantly with a roll of his eyes, turning his head slightly to hide his faint smile.
He had no idea why he kept being so defensive about it. It wasn’t like they weren’t right. The show was, in fact, pretty bad, but El still learned a ton of vocabulary from it (or at least that was he was trying to convince himself).
“Just do it, man. How hard can it be?” Lucas argued back.
Irritation flashed across Mike’s face again.
“I’d like to see you do it!”
Maybe, just maybe, this is the moment he’s been waiting for to finally confess his feelings. It might be something simple like, “Hey, yeah, about that – I’m in love with you,” and be done with it, because the way he’s acting is ridiculous, it’s just El. But the sole fact that Hopper’s just outside the door, probably still in earshot, is more than enough to discourage him.
Bringing himself back to the present, he blurts: “I love you.” Then, realizing how this might sound and feeling his face flaming, quickly adds: “I-I mean, that what this expression - three little words - means.”
“Oh,” El replies tentatively. She tucks hair behind her ear in a nervous gesture he knows well, but keeps her eyes on him. The intensity he finds in them makes him fidget. Something tells him she isn’t completely oblivious to his internal struggle. There’s a pregnant pause and then, “Okay,” El adds softly.
She lingers several seconds longer before eventually breaking their eye contact and proceeding to make notes. While she writes, Mike stares down at the comforter, feeling his face burning.
He hopes the TV and a loud fan in the living room are enough to block out the sound of their voices coming out from the bedroom, and that Hopper can’t hear them. Little alarm bells are still going off in his mind, when suddenly he finds himself connecting the dots—Chief’s odd comment (“This should be interesting”), his refusal to explain just a few more words to El, knowing Mike would be the one she would eventually ask to do it... Did Hopper know all along El would ask him to explain “three little words”?
To say he’s annoyed with Hopper is an understatement, but he doesn’t let El see his internal conflict.
Mike’s still contemplating the matter when the door creaks open, and Hopper saunters in.
“I have to head back to the station,” he announces, looking between the two of them. “You need anything?”
Mike tries his best to keep his frustration at the man out of his voice. “We’re good,” he answers, to which El nods in agreement. “El’s just finished her science worksheet and we’ll be going.”
“I can count on you two, right?” Chief’s eyes rest on Mike and his lips twitch, growing into a smug grin. “No wandering around the town, no grand romantic gestures or public proposals, no nonsense, yeah? Just—"
“Hop,” El is the first to interrupt his speech. She throws him a pointed look and pushes herself off the bed. “We’ll be smart.”
A few minutes later, after Mike and El finish getting ready and put her workbooks away, they make their way to the living room, ready to go. Hopper still hasn’t left— instead, they see him retreating into his bedroom and soon returning to the living room, all the while scanning the space.
“El, you seen my hat?” he asks, continuing looking.
“No,” she shakes her head and Mike and her turn for the door. “Bye, Hop!”
“Yeah, yeah, kid,” the Chief mutters, waving them away with one hand and flipping cushions with the other. “Have fun, you two.”
El is the first to step into the porch, Mike trailing behind her, but right before he closes the door, he realizes he’s been presented with an opportunity to get back at the man. He’s certain that Hopper is oblivious to the fact that him, Will and El know about his frequent visits to the Byers’ house, or the store where Joyce works. Which can only mean one thing.
“Chief?” he waits before Hopper turns to look at him and arranges his face into the most innocent expression he can muster. “You might want to check at Mrs Byers’, since you’ve been spending so much time there and all,” he says, turning his back on him slow enough to catch the look of shock on the man’s face, and takes El by the hand. “Come on, El.”
1:1, Hopper.
***
Before long, after some thirty minutes of walking, the trees break into a small open space, almost a meadow. As far as Hawkins sceneries go, the setting is quite picturesque—the clearing is sprinkled with wildflowers, and there’s a lone tree in the middle that is just right for providing them shade.
“So, this is a picnic?” El wonders, as her eyes sweep across the picnic blanket laid out against the grass, under the oak tree.
Mike’s just finished neatly placing all the utensils and food he brought—fresh fruits, sandwiches, juice, cherry pie—over top of the blanket. El leans against his side, their backs to the tree trunk and her legs stretched out in front of her.
“Well, yeah,” Mike nods. “Is it kind of underwhelming?” he asks, suddenly aware that maybe the weather’s a little hotter than he expected, just as the clearing isn’t as nice as he found it on the day when he stumbled upon it a week ago. “I just thought, you know, it was a good idea, ‘cause you aren’t always allowed to hang out in town.”
She shakes her head, reaching for his hand. “I really like it,” she assures him, beaming, “Promise.” Mike visibly relaxes.
“We’ll go on a real picnic one day,” he says, “Somewhere where it doesn’t look like my backyard and has an actual view, you know.”
“Like where?” She picks a sandwich and starts unwrapping it.
“A nice park?” Mike suggests, “Or a beach,” he offers further, remembering how curious she was about them because of how much Max loved them. “Places like that.”
“I’d like that,”, she replies, eyes bright with excitement. “Like California?”
“Like California,” he confirms, following El’s example and grabbing a sandwich. “It’s kind of a bummer Hawkins is landlocked,” Mike murmurs, taking a bite.
El smiles to herself, looking ahead and picturing the kind of places they’ll visit one day. The sunlight dapples down through the trees, the grass and flowers sway in the gentle breeze. They sit in quiet for a moment, chewing on food and feeling content in each other’s company.
“It’s still nice to get out of the cabin, right?” Mike is the first to break the silence, “At least Hopper isn’t spying on us,” he adds, popping the last of the sandwich into his mouth. “’Wheeler, did I miss the announcement of you moving in into my house? It’s 8pm and way past your bed time, go home,’” Mike mocks in Hopper’s gruff voice, snickering as he shakes his head at the memory.
El shoots her hand up to her mouth to stifle her giggles. “He’s just messing with you,” El moves to wrap her hands around his waist, cozily resting her head on his shoulder, food suddenly forgotten. “He likes you.”
“I guess,” Mike chuckles, mindlessly skidding his fingers across El’s arm. “I mean, I’m dating his daughter, it’s in his contract as a parent to make my life a little difficult or something.”
He turns to look at El when he feels her tilt her head up. Her face is inches from his. Mike watches her eyes flicker across his features—she takes her time tracing every freckle sweeping along his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose, like gold dust. And when that isn’t enough, she brings up a hand and lets her fingertips explore further. Her touch is warm, her gaze soft, shining with undisguised admiration, and he can feel the wild thrumming of his heart at the sight.
“What,” it comes out in whisper, “freckles? Again?”
At that, her eyes finally look into his brown ones. She shrugs, beaming at him. “They’re so pretty.”
Mike throws up his hands in mock frustration, rolling his eyes. “You only like me for my freckles.”
El grins widely, brushing strands of his hair from his forehead. “Maybe.”
“Hey!” Mike laughs, “You’re so mean.”
“You are mean to yourself.” She drops her hand and reaches for some blueberries, popping them into her mouth.
“I just don’t like them, is all,” he makes a face.
El leans back on outstretched hands and tilts her head inquisitively. “Why not?”
“They’re, like, hundreds of useless spots all over my face,” he frowns. “Before Troy would start calling me a “frog face”, I was a “freckle face”. Got picked on all the time.”
El’s smile falters at this.
Okay, TMI.
Abort.
“All I’m saying,” he continues with an attempt at humor, “Is that I’m responsible for making sure you blend in around Hawkins, so… just so you know, freckles aren’t the most attractive physical trait. You’re so going stand out with controversial opinions like that.”
Nice save, Wheeler.
“Contr-controversial?” she asks, evidently confused, but smile back in place.
“You know, like, something many people would disagree with.”
“Max’s right,” she says with a roll of her eyes, shaking her head slightly. “You’re dramatic.”
Mike finds himself amused, knowing she’s picked up his trademark habit. She’s adorable.
“And she’s annoying,” he grumbles, following her example and shoving some blueberries into his mouth.
“You have more now.”
“Mmhmm?” He replies, chewing on fruit.
“Freckles.”
“Oh. Right. Well, it’s the sun,” he shrugs, swallowing. “More freckles appear when your skin is exposed to the sun in summer.”
“Really?”
Mike hums his assent, proceeding to explain. “You usually inherit them from your parents, so it’s genetic. They’re the result of melanin. It’s this pigment that protects our skin from ultraviolet rays of—”
He doesn’t get to finish the sentence, because next thing he knows he’s splayed on the grass, feeling the invisible force of El’s powers pinning him down.
“El!” He blinks at El in surprise, who is now leaning on his chest with her forearms. They’re no longer under the tree’s shadow; he squints his eyes against the afternoon sun and raises his hand to block it out.
“Have you got more now then?” She flashes him a mischievous, triumphant smile, her honey eyes twinkling.
He means to scowl, even if playfully, but instead he’s sure he’s giving her what his friends would call “goo-goo eyes”. This—the teasing—is a new thing. And Mike is enjoying it a whole lot.
“Don’t count on it. All I’m getting right now is sunburn,” he replies, a statement that isn’t too far from the truth. The fair skinned Wheelers don’t tan, they burn. “And you’re not supposed to be using your powers,” he adds, still feeling her mental hold on him.
El chuckles and leans forward, peppering kisses across his entire face and effectively rendering him incapable of thought, “Hopper won’t find out.”
“I, um… could tell him?” Mike points out weakly, raising his eyebrows.
“He wouldn’t allow me to see you. You’d miss me,” she purses her lips, thinking, “You’d die,” she pokes his cheek.
He laughs. Talk about being dramatic. “I didn’t see you yesterday. Didn’t die.”
“You called me six times.”
“Yeah, that’s true,” Mike mutters, conceding her point and letting her win.
He can practically hear Dustin’s voice in his head, telling him he’s a total goner. But really, would it be such a bad thing? With the way she’s making him feel all fluttery in his stomach, beaming at him, her hair falling around her face in soft waves, she looks ethereal, and it seems like the best idea he’s ever had.
Mike coils a strand of her hair around his index finger. “El, you’re so, so, so pretty,” he says in a hushed voice.
Her smile grows even bigger. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, you’re, like… wow.”
(Poetic.)
Happiness is oozing from her—he can practically see fondness replacing the prior mischief in her eyes.
“You’ll be the prettiest girl at Hawkins High,” he continues, tucking the strand of hair he was playing with behind her ear. “Scratch that, you’re already are the prettiest in the entire town,” he amends. “Or state. Wait no, in the wor—”
El covers his mouth with her hand, laughing as she does so. “Mike, stop!”
She’s distracted then, and he feels her release him from her powers, so he wastes no time in taking advantage of it. Reaching his hands around either side of El’s waist, Mike begins to wiggle his fingers against her sides.
She squeals, desperately trying to get away from him and his tickling assaults.
“MIKE!” she shrieks through a helpless fit of giggles, as he continues softly scratching his fingers over her sides, grinning in the process.
El throws her head back laughing, as he keeps tickling her.
El’s laughter rings through the trees, her shoulders vibrating slightly, and it’s easily the best sound he’s ever heard. It makes him think all the way back to the first time he heard her laugh like that, when he visited the cabin in January and some stupid joke (well, his stupid joke, he remembers rather proudly) made her laugh the very same way—all teeth, dimples, crinkled nose and eyes, and the sound bubbling happily from her lips and then subsiding into giggles.
Mike’s hands still and he gulps, suddenly too overwhelmed and mesmerized by the way El looks now, unshielded from the sun. Her shoulder-length hair is tinted with golden highlights as the sun plays across its locks, her nose sun-kissed too, and she’s absolutely carefree, so very happy and beautiful. The feeling finally bursts into bloom and it hits him again just how much he—
“Iloveyou,” The words tumble a little clumsily off his tongue, without him fully realizing it, until the truth is out there. His mind starts to search for adequate words, but all his rehearsed speeches leave his mind, so he lets his face express it all—all the emotions he was trying to push away for what feels like entirely too long.
El’s giggles die down. For a split second, a look of surprise flashes across her face, but then her eyes glaze over with pure joy, and a smile to match his.
Mike’s frozen, his heart hammering in his chest, heavy with excitement over what’s (hopefully) coming.
“I know,” she finally says, her voice breathy, but tone firm. She crawls over to him, closing whatever distance remains between them. There’s almost no need for her to say it, because her face is giving it all away. “I love you, too.”
Oh.
Holy shit.
All these weeks he was so transfixed with saying these words, agonizing over all the possible scenarios, that he didn’t give much thought to what he would feel when she’d said them back.
Before Mike can really react, he feels El press her lips against his. Somehow, after a couple of seconds, he finds enough presence of mind to reciprocate, returning the gentle pressure against her lips. His mind is still whirling though, trying to catch up to what has just happened, when they break apart. The warmth in her eyes is mesmerizing, and the magnetic pull towards her is so irresistible he wants nothing more than to kiss her again. And because they stopped kissing a couple of seconds ago—a couple of seconds ago that feels too damn long, if you ask him—he swiftly and eagerly captures her lips again. In response, El wraps her arms tightly around his neck, while his hand reaches up to cup her cheek, gently caressing it. The scope of his world is reduced to El—her fingers in his hair, her warm skin under his, a faint scent of blueberries and the taste of them on her lips. There’s only her. Her, her, her. He can see his older self, years from now, saying the same words to her over and over again, meaning them just as much.
It’s when Mike feels El smiling into the kiss, he can’t help his own, still feeling his heart fluttering in his chest. He pulls back, full on grinning now.
“Um… you knew?” he asks, suddenly recalling what she said earlier.
El lowers her head, biting her lip. “I think I’ve known for a while, but… Joyce,” she says, a little breathless just like him. “She… she told Hopper teenage boys don’t just spend their summer holidays locked inside the house. That if you do, it means you have really strong fee—”
“Wait, what?” a worrying thought occurs to him. “Hopper told you that?!” The image of Hopper talking to El about his feelings is so embarrassing he wants the Earth to swallow him right then and there.
El shakes her head vigorously. “No,” She is quick to assure him. “I—”
“Overheard?”
She nods.
Whew.
Mike takes her hand, pulling her along with him back to the tree shadow. They lie on the grass, facing one another.
El brushes back a lock of unruly dark hair from his forehead, eyes following her movements. “I think I knew even before I overheard them,” she whispers.
“Yeah, well,” Mike chuckles, “I guess I’m too transparent.”
“It’s not just summer,” he barely registers her voice.
“What do you mean?”
“You always came to tutor,” she looks shy for some reason, eyes dropping to the collar of his shirt, her smile tentative. “Even before summer.”
“It’s not just me,” Mike shrugs and takes her hand in his, tangling their fingers. “The whole Party was tutoring you, and Nancy too. And you’re really smart. It’s really all just you.”
Her eyes are back on his. “But… you came on school nights too. You had your own homework. You missed Arcade tour-na-ment. And…” she trails off, and Mike’s patient enough to let her find the words she’s looking for, which sometimes takes her a little longer than most people.
“Thank you for always caring so much,” El breathes, her eyes softening.
Mike continues to hold her gaze, taken aback by her candid revelation—she isn’t usually one to verbalize her emotions.
Words, Mike.
Words.
Remember those?
He shakes his head slightly, smiling at her—the girl who he’ll care about and for, always.
“Anything for you…To make you ‘all the way happy’,” he utters, allowing love he feels for her wash over him, and enveloping her in a tight embrace.